


Hallar, the Firefletcher

by colorguardian10



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Gen, Yes I know elves age differently in canon I just didn’t feel like dealing with that don’t @ me, and I made up the face markings thing too don’t @ me about that either, the rating is just for some very very mild violence and some non-violent blood in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorguardian10/pseuds/colorguardian10
Summary: I posted this on Tumblr in 2018, not long after Dominaria came out. There’s not much canon and no fanfic for what was pretty much instantly my favorite character, so here’s a life summary of how little Hallar became Hallar, the Firefletcher.First bit: Marwyn, the Nurturer delivers a baby on the famous night of an important treaty...
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Marwyn, the Nurturer (Prologue)

A scout runs lightly forward in the night, weaving through the slopes of his village. He slows at the leader’s tent, but continues past when he sees that there is no light or air stirring it. “Of all the times,” he mutters between breaths, “Her and her damn fixation with-“ but by now he had crossed to the midwife’s tent and flung open the flap to a grisly sight.  
Marwyn the Nurturer, elfhame leader, midwife, and a little busy right now, spares him the briefest of glances. “It can wait.” She turns back to her work, talking and caressing through the mother’s cries.  
Few things could possibly be more important than Marwyn’s life’s work, but unfortunately the situation at hand was such a thing. The scout starts to run back, head filling with stories and excuses to stall the foreign leader invading their camp. The one right outside the midwife’s tent. With no less than five warriors armed to the teeth trailing behind him. The scout gulps at air, desperately grasping for something to say.  
“Well?” The leader asks, “Where is she?”  
“She’s, ah, she’s in the tent-”  
The foreign leader surges forward at this, the scout moving to block him, “She’s, well, she’s occupied with-“ the scout cuts off as a particularly long, agonized scream ecapes the tent.  
The leader ignores it. “I demand- to see Marwyn!” he says, shoving the scout aside. “What could possibly-“  
The leader stops, taking the scene in. An elf woman cries and pants on a high sloped chair, an older woman swaddling a newborn kneeling between her legs. There’s a large bowl on the floor full of water deeply stained red, though it seems it only did so much as both adults are covered in blood and… other things, the midwife clean up to her elbows only. She looks up, furious.  
The invading leader freezes. The elf woman radiates safety, authority. Some primal corner of his mind whispers: mother? Tonight he feels a mother’s judgement. Her face twists in anger as she sees a neighboring leader barging into her tent unannounced. He shakes his head to rid the sensation. She speaks.  
“I’m not done yet. Do what you can to keep this one warm, it’s cold out. It. can. wait.” And suddenly the leader is cradling a newborn from a different elfhame as he is shoved out of the tent. Absently he remembers his healer’s training and casts a light heating spell on the child. The newborn blindly grips his finger as he does so, screaming heartily. Within seconds his righteous anger is replaced with a new purpose. He sits down on a nearby stump and waits, his eyes never leaving the baby.  
Later that night, the invading party sits at a table opposite Marwyn the Nurturer’s council. Their leader, Teris, gently rocks and coos at a sleeping baby in his arms. The shamefaced warriors refuse to look Marwyn in the eyes.  
“So, let’s go over this again. You found burned areas, gutted animals, and cookfires in western areas of your claims?”  
“Yes, Nurturer” one guard says, quicker to reply than her occupied leader: “Yes, Leader”  
“So you wished to reclaim what you were due from the invading elfhame.”  
“Yes, Nurturer”  
“The one residing south.”  
“…Yes, Nurturer”  
Marwyn sighs and leans forward, forcing Teris to look at her. “…I will not lie, it was a hard winter. Some of our hunts may have gone, ah, farther than they should have. But we are not your enemy. Do you really think that we would do such a thing as risk our own safety by burning our forest, just to harm you?”  
A long, tense pause. The baby wakes and grasps for the leader’s hand at the sudden halt. “… No, Nurturer”  
“I thought so.” She lets him stew in silence for a few seconds. Her eyes narrow. “I propose a deal: you and your warriors leave our home-” she hisses, “-alive, and you forgive us for taking more than our due from this forest this time. Afterwards, we can send a small party to your elfhame to help investigate whatever is at the borders in the west. They can negotiate terms of peace between us. Whatever threatens one forest threatens us all. Does that sound reasonable?”  
Teris looks down at the newborn in his arms as he considers. The newborn could have been from his own elfhame. Hell, a human could have mistaken them for one of their own. Pursuing a path of violence would only lead other innocent beings like this one to more violence and mistrust. “…Yes. I’d like to discuss the members of this party and their permissions, but …” he takes a deep breath. “Yes.”  
Marwyn smiles as tension floods out of the room. “Thank you”.  
Deep into discussion, Teris checks the newborn again, as he’d been doing occasionally since they were handed to him. The first few hours are critical. Somehow they’re still warm even though he’d ceased casting hours ago. He’d stopped being concerned about fever since he’d checked for it, but the strange heat, seemingly coming from the newborn, remains a mystery. He tightens the cloths around the newborn’s shoulders, just in case.  
Soon the previously invading party is being escorted out to Marwyn’s elfhame’s borders. Before he leaves the village, Teris makes sure to publicly and symbolically return the well-cared-for baby back to the Nurturer. They leave in peace.


	2. Hallar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallar grows up, growing into their role, and discovers their identity.

Hallar is ten years old, and becomes a member of ambassador parties before many would even leave their village. The story of the night they were born had reached far, and it appealed to the village elders to have a living tale of peace and collaboration representing them. Luckily, young Hallar was all too eager to explore beyond the reaches of their elfhame.  
Today’s visit is to the recently created human settlement to the west, eventually carved out of a rocky plateau rather than cutting into the edge of the forest. Humans didn’t seem capable of not twisting nature to their whims. It was perhaps the only thing Hallar didn’t like about them.  
The lead emissary, a woman named Ryss, speaks with a dark-skinned human woman named Beren, the mayor of the small town. Hallar was playing with the human children. They loved riding with Hallar on the back of their bonded kavu, Serahane. This amused Beren greatly.  
At one point, the human indicates Hallar and grins. “And your young attendant, what’s his name?”  
All three ambassadors tense. Many elves Hallar’s age first declared and began the path to adulthood years ago, but Hallar held fast. Everyone knew that they intended to become an ambassador, but something seemed to be holding them back. Hallar’s keen ears picked up the human’s mistake, and before the other elves admonish her, they shout, “Hallar, mayor!” The human doesn’t seem to understand what exactly just happened, but blinks and nods anyway. “Hallar,” the human repeats nervously. The other elves give Hallar strange looks, but are willing to let it pass, as long as Hallar permits it. Beren turns back to the ambassador. They resume talking, only slightly more strained than before.

Hallar is twelve years old, and is with this month’s visiting party to Maris’s elfhame. By now they are even more outspoken, but no more declared. They stop in front of an old arrow-maker’s tent. Another elf appears to be just leaving, a quiver on his back full to bursting. He grazes them as he exits the tent. He stops and turns, looking Hallar up and down. “Oh, you’re one of the children from Marwyn’s elfhame. Make sure to leave with some of Makin’s arrows, they’re one of the best.” Hallar starts at the pronoun used, like the one used for unknown genders, but subtly different. Hallar blinks, stares at the arrow-maker, who is clearly declared. The other elf ignores their reaction and leaves with a wink. Hallar slowly enters the tent.  
Makin looks up as Hallar enters and grins. “That scoundrel took half my stock! You’re welcome to what you need, but let me keep some arrows in reserve, if you can”. Quickly they duck back down to their work. Hallar’s whole world tilts sideways as they stare dumbfounded at the elder, their markings differently colored than both the men’s and the women’s marks. They saw such things on other elves, but they assumed it was unique to the role, some indicator of status. Makin looks back up at Hallar after almost a full minute of not touching the arrows in the tent.  
Hallar starts. “No, no, it’s…” Hallar sits down on a nearby stump. “The… the elf outside. He called you … ‘they’”?  
Makin takes a second to realize what Hallar is saying. “Yes. I’m … There are other kinds than women and men, little Hallar.” They look disturbed at the implication that Marwyn’s elfhame denies this fact.  
The simple sentence changes everything. Hallar recalls memories they’ve been puzzling over since childhood. They recall one returning individual with the strange marks, Marwyn greeting them as her “child”. They recall humans’ strange turns of phrase, referring to “both” men and women when no elf said such. The people of their village never discussed the declaring ritual outside of whispers. Hallar had never seen someone dip their fingers into the other bowls.  
Their mind whirls. There’s a third option.  
Unknown to them, Hallar glows red and hot, causing Makin to lean back. “What-“ they manage to say before Hallar runs out of the tent, seeking the current lead emissary. Hallar is calmer by the time they find him, though just as determined, wasting no time before announcing loudly that they wish to declare. The ambassador looks puzzled but relieved. He leaves with Hallar for home the next morning.


	3. Hallar, the Firetamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallar discovers a powerful and dangerous gift.

Hallar is sixteen years old, still a child just enough to resent it. They’re at Marwyn’s southernmost village on an investigation gone horribly wrong.  
Cabal members had been caught and killed tromping through Llanowar, but the aftereffects of dark spells and rituals had been found scattered throughout the area. Hallar’s boundless energy, small size, and experience dealing with other villages made them ideal for such a task, so they and two scouts joined the reinforcements that were sent.  
One of the other scouts had already been killed by the blaze set by the Cabal, currently eating through the village. Evacuation efforts were going well, but the cultists were still at large and the blaze threatens to consume the forest whole.  
Hallar half-runs, half-carries a woman whose lungs had been damaged by the smoke and heat. Hallar had miraculously kept safe so far, pulling nearly a dozen people out of their homes with barely a soot stain. The woman falls down and behind as her foot is trapped in a root, crying in pain as she goes down. Hallar runs back, but the blaze is not far behind her. There’s no time.  
The fire has been calling to Hallar from the beginning. Fire has always spoken to them, though they’re never heard of such a thing from others. Fire was animal, consuming and multiplying, as natural as the green things it destroys in its path. Or so Hallar always felt, anyway. Hallar stands up, eying the wall of flame approaching. The fire roars at Hallar, who stands unrelenting, their body the last barrier to the woman behind them. Hallar roars back. This blaze is no more fearsome than their Serahane, wild and unstoppable. Hallar felt the same inside, sometimes. The blaze roars again, surges forward-  
Hallar  
R O A R S  
The fire whooshes back, intimidated or surprised somehow. Hallar challenges the fire again with a shout. They wrestle this beast the same way they wrestle their kavu, wildly, a battle of wills. They roar. The flame is everywhere but it can’t burn fire but neither can they and they’re tired but you can’t have them and  
The fight seems to rage for days for Hallar before they eventually fall, the world fading black in ashes.  
Hallar wakes in a strange tent. They grimace as bright sunlight assaults their eyes through an opening in the front. They can hear whispering outside. They sit up. Marwyn sits at Hallar’s side, talking with the healer Teris. The conversation is cut short as both notice them moving. Marwyn smiles at Hallar. “Our little hero. Are you all right?”  
It takes a terrifying second to find that their throat works, and another second to use it properly. “…Yes, Nurturer”  
“Hallar, do you know what happened to you?”  
They recall being in the blaze without burning, somehow fighting it with their mind, others behind them helpless to intervene. “…Maybe,” they say eventually. They can’t say the words.  
“We found you in a pile of ash without a single burn. Apparently you held the fire back by screaming and kicking at it.” She grins.  
Hallar stares at her, frozen, not speaking.  
“You saved many lives six days ago. You’ve been asleep since then. You’ve been sucking in red mana nonstop.” She indicates a metal bowl of smoking ashes and a hole in the ceiling of the tent. “The humans brought a brazier. It seems that helped”.  
“What… what do I do?” They say eventually. If they truly do have a gift for fire, they can’t stay surrounded by inhabited woods. The thought pains them deeply.  
“Pyromancy isn’t unheard of among humans. There’s even one in the settlement, but he suggests you find a proper teacher”. There’s a question in her eyes.  
Hallar considers the possibilities. They love their elfhame and their way of life, but if traveling elsewhere is what will let them stay…  
Hallar nods. “Yes. Please.”


	4. Hallar, the Firefletcher (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallar has earned their title now and is as we see them on their card. A little closing scene of them being badass!

Hallar leans back on their brilliant kavu, an arrow resting on their bow, relaxed. Their markings have changed, now red lines displaying skill as an emissary and a warrior. They drink in the sun’s warmth through the trees. Hallar watches a roc swoop up and down over the treetops. It’s closer to Marwyn’s village than comfortable, but there’s no reason to hunt it down simply for existing. No, Hallar was out to hunt rumors of the increasingly bold Cabal appearing south of the human settlement.  
They’re in luck tonight, as a pillar of darkness briefly rises above the treetops, wisping like smoke before it appears to pull itself back down out of view. They speak a silent command to Serahane. Hallar weaves through the trees as it lopes forward. Soon they are at the edge of the Llanowar, a ring of skin-witches midway through some summoning ritual visible below. A dark being appears to be forming at the center.  
Without missing a beat Hallar pulls back an arrow and fires. A line of dark red burns straight through the unfortunate skin-witch. A sharp ‘pop’ goes off as the arrow impacts the ground behind her. Hallar’s fire builds as they release more searing arrows, downing another and then a third, great booms echoing as the arrows impact. One witch has had time to fling a spell at them, but Hallar sees the dark shape coming. Hallar swipes at the air, and the curse burns away as they duck out of its path. It leaves a sick warping feeling by their ear. Serahane bounds forward and crushes the witch, fire flickering across its skin as it crosses the air between them. Hallar pulls back one more arrow aimed at the shadowy creature’s center, the very air around them aflame. By now both Hallar and Serahane appear to be twin beasts of fire. Hallar releases the arrow.  
Roar.

**Author's Note:**

> This work of fiction is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.


End file.
